


your blood in my veins

by brave_muffin



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, F/M, M/M, fuyuhiko is one angsty mobster, hajime is (shockingly) tired and just wants to pass his exams, peko is a darling as always
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brave_muffin/pseuds/brave_muffin
Summary: There is a strange girl in his room.She stares at him, or rather the book in his hand."Charles Dickens is awful, you know," she says.He is very offended. SENSE8 AU.





	your blood in my veins

chapter one – a day of birthdays and odd encounters

 

Hajime wakes up on the morning of his 20th birthday with the heavy sound of a bass thrumming through his apartment.

Now, Hajime may only get paid minimum wage at his part-time job at the small café around the corner from the university he attends, but god damnit if he is not going to write a strongly worded complaint to the owner of his building about his neighbour’s need to blast their club music at 7am.

He gets up and decides that’s he’s just going to get dressed as quickly as possible for his lecture at midday and find a bench to read on to waste time, but he can feel vibrations rumbling beneath his feet while he’s brushing his teeth and he can’t take it.

He jerks open his front door and knocks on his neighbour’s door, one shoe on and tied, the other still back by his bed, his shirt untucked at the back and feeling unbelievably tired because life has dealt him a shit hand, but he refuses to have ‘inconsiderate neighbours’ be one of his cards, _god damnit –_

A man opens the door and Hajime opens his mouth to ask him to turn down the music when he realises that there is no music and the landing he’s standing on is silent except for the loud judgement that is emanating from the man in front of him.

“I,” Hajime starts. “Sorry, I thought, uh. Nevermind.”

He turns and goes back into his apartment where only a few minutes ago he could’ve sworn the wooden flooring had a pulse with the way it shook beneath him.

He shakes his head, grabs his other shoe, tucks his shirt in and chalks it up to lack of sleep and heads out for the day.

Not the best start to his birthday but he’s had worse.

(Across the country, Peko exits the club, her pay-check tucked into the pocket of her leather jacket. She checks the time and almost laughs. It’s been her birthday for a whole seven hours and she hadn’t noticed. Figures.

She hums ‘Happy Birthday’ to herself as she walks home, her key tucked between her fingers, just above her knuckles. It’s bright out and she doesn’t think anyone would try anything with the sun’s harsh glare beating down on them, but she doesn’t want to chance it.

She wonders if her mother has anything for her at home and speeds up.)

 

//

 

Chiaki taps her finger on the edge of her laptop and stares at her computer screen. Various windows, all with different codes, stare back at her.

She checks the time. 9:00am. She checks the date. 15th of August. It’s her 20th birthday. And it’s too early to call her grandparents.

She wonders what they’ll do today – her, her grandmother and grandfather. Last year they went to the park and had a picnic while her gran fussed over the bags under her eyes and her grandpa excitedly explained every dish he had made.

They might have a ball this year. She hopes not. The last ball they had for her birthday was when she was eight and she distinctly remembers tripping over the hem of her dress and falling into a punch bowl. Never again.

She sighs and starts to shut down her laptop, saving and double-saving her work before closing the lid. She rises off the cosy armchair she was gifted when she first bought her house and makes a note to get a glass of water before she starts to get ready for the day while she grabs her laptop case.

Just as Chiaki turns to the kitchen, she’s hit with a blind pain, the kind that makes you see white for a moment. She looks down and there are her hands, usually pale with her nails round and smooth, now stained red with her knuckles bust open. One of the bones at the base of her middle finger on her right hand has pierced the skin and she feels the urge to vomit.

She runs to the sink and shoves her hands under the tap, looking around frantically for her phone to get an ambulance over because _dear lord bones aren’t meant to do that, are they?_

She turns back to the sink just as she remembers her phone is on the armchair and the sink that was once splattered with pink water is now pristine and there are her hands, unblemished if a bit wet.

She blinks and wonders how she could’ve imagined something like that.

Not a great start to her big day. She resolves to not tell her grandparents about this, no matter how much she’d love to get their opinion on it. They’d just worry.

(South of Chiaki’s quiet house, Fuyuhiko sits on the bed in his dingy hotel room, his belt clenched between his teeth, his right hand a bloody mess but he can’t tell what’s his blood and what’s his associate’s. Associate being a loose term to describe the sneaky asshole who stole fifty grand from his father.

There’s a med kit that’s got bloody finger prints alone the front. A needle and some thread are missing, easily found in Fuyuhiko’s shaky left hand.

The fucker just had to break his right hand, huh.

He takes a deep breath and gets to work. Happy birthday indeed.)

 

//

 

“Hey,” Kazuichi says. “Happy birthday.”

Hajime smiles and lifts a hand to rest on Kazuichi’s shoulder. “Thanks, Kaz. So, did you build a robot to sleep for me?”

“No.”

“You’re a terrible friend and I hate you.”

Kazuichi snorts. “I did buy you a coffee though,” he adds, bringing a hot cup out from where he’d been hiding it behind his back.

“You’re the love of my life,” Hajime replies, very seriously.

Kazuichi wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

Hajime looks at him, offended. “Excuse you.” He lifts the cup to his mouth and is instantly grateful for the heat. At this point he’s ninety percent sure his bloodstream is entirely made up of caffeine.

“So how was your history lecture?” Kazuichi asks, hopping up to sit on the wall next to him, his legs swinging. Hajime doesn’t know how Kaz is able to make his jeans look as though they’re _meant_ to have those holes in the knees, but he doesn’t question it.

“Fine, I guess. Learned some more about Mary, Queen of Scots but I already knew most of the information.”

“Nerd,” Kazuichi says. Hajime elbows him in the ribs.

“What about you?” Hajime asks in return. He lifts his cup to his mouth as he waits for an answer and almost spits out the liquid because that was definitely not coffee. It tasted like herbal tea which Hajime has sworn off because of an incident involving spilling some of it down his front before his high school prom.

“What?” Kazuichi exclaims, leaning away from Hajime’s disgusted expression.

Hajime forces it down his throat only because there is a nice old lady standing just in front of him, waiting on the same bus as them, and he doesn’t think she’d appreciate being spit on. Besides, they’d need to share a bus together and really, he’s looking out for Future-Hajime who would have to bear the aftermath of that particular action.

“That wasn’t coffee,” Hajime chokes out. “That was herbal tea.”

“What, like from prom?” Kazuichi reaches over and takes the cup from Hajime’s hand and takes a swig himself. “No, that’s coffee. And very strong coffee, just like you need it in order to function.” Kazuichi frowns at him. “Are you ok?”

Hajime takes the cup back and drinks from it again. Coffee. He shakes his head to clear it and forces a smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired. Don’t worry about it.”

(Elsewhere, Fuyuhiko takes a sip of his herbal tea and spit it out a mouthful of what tastes like someone dumped lightly watered coffee beans into his mouth. It goes all over his new book and jolts his broken knuckle.

He is having a lousy fucking day. But now he has a weird urge to re-read his worn book on Scottish History, which is very odd considering he just read it but that’s life he supposes. Broken knuckles, tea that tastes like coffee and re-reading old books.)

 

//

 

Later that night, Peko sits beside her mother’s bed. She has fallen asleep, but she shivers weakly every so often despite the two blankets Peko has laid over her. Her mother is ill, and she feels useless, just as she does every time she comes home, and her mother has been unable to leave her bed on her own the entire time she was gone. It’s bearable when she has night shifts at least, so there are small mercies.

Peko sighs and grinds the heels of her palms into her eyes until there are little black spots in her vision when she pulls them away. She has been up for almost twenty-four hours and her body is starting to feel it. She glances at her mother again. They say it’s a motor neuron disorder, a disorder which leaves her muscles weak and sore. The doctor had told her that there wasn’t a cure and she had put her fist through a wall.

She stands and goes to get another blanket because her mum is cold because the bloody heating is broken, and her piece of shit landlord won’t let it get fixed until Monday when suddenly she isn’t in her small apartment, she’s in a ball room.

There are people milling around her, carrying flutes of champagne, some wearing sweeping gowns that swish and swirl and others are wearing inky black suits with crisp white shirts underneath them.

She looks down and she’s wearing a dress of her own, all baby pink and cute. She feels shorter than usual, even though she lifts the skirt of her dress and she’s wearing high heels.

Someone touches her arm and she jumps but when she turns, she sees a kind face peering down at her. “Are you alright, dear? I did try to tell your grandmother to tone it down a bit, but you know what she’s like,” the old gentleman says, chuckling slightly.

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s back in her mother’s bedroom, all the blankets in her home piled on top of her mother who has stopped shivering. Peko could cry from relief.

(Back at the gala, Chiaki excuses herself and sits on the patio and cries because that sick woman had looked just like her mother had and suddenly she isn’t Chiaki Nanami, 20-year-old coding genius, with her own house and a good career, she’s just nine again, crying under her duvet because her mother is sick and isn’t going to get better, no matter how many stars she wishes on.)

 

//

 

Fuyuhiko lies on his bed and stares at his alarm clock. In two minutes, his birthday will be over, over until next year. He wonders if his father remembers or even cared enough in the first place to make a note of it. Sometimes he likes to think that his mother would have cared but she died too young for him to actually make an informed guess on what their relationship could have been.

He shifts around, trying to find a comfortable position, turns to face away from his clock and comes face to face with a woman.

A very pretty woman. Her eyes are crimson and though he hates the colour, too much of it has stained his skin for him to find a liking for it, he can see the appeal of it now. Her hair is silver and curls lightly over pyjamas which have little Disney logos on them – adorable, he almost snorts.

The woman in his bed is very beautiful. The woman in his bed is cute. _There is a woman in his bed_.

He jerks back, off his bed and goes to grab the gun under his pillow, wondering if this is some sick joke his uncle is playing on him or if this is going to be the assassination attempt that will finally work because he got distracted by a pretty face but when he aims his gun, he’s pointing it at empty sheets.

He blinks a few times, checks under his bed and in the bathroom but she’s gone. He rubs a hand down his face and begins to pack up all his stuff. He’ll find somewhere else to sleep – someone knew he’s here and already the itch of paranoia ticks inside his skull. Maybe he can steal some of the sheets, the streets would be a lot comfier with them.

(Peko holds her heart and breathes deeply. There had been a man in her bed. A _nice-looking_ man. A dangerous man if the scar above his eye meant anything. And he had been _shirtless_. Peko feels her face flush and hides the colouring by shoving her face into her pillow. It’s too late at night to be thinking of such things, now is the time for sleep.

(She doesn’t get to sleep for hours, the cold somehow much worse, as though she were outside instead of in her bedroom.))

 

//

 

Hajime climbs into bed after he finally finishes his assessment and submits it, and he checks the time and realises his birthday has been over for a few minutes now.

He rolls out of bed because he forgot to brush his teeth but just as he has the toothpaste on his brush, he sticks it in his mouth and looks into the mirror and a pale girl peers back at him.

She’s very lovely, with blonde hair that brushes the top of her shoulders and pale eyes that blink rapidly if a bit sleepily.

She reaches forward and touches the mirror with her hand. He does the same.

She stares at him and leans forward and mouths, “Who are you?”

Hajime smiles and thinks that this is one of the more entertaining dreams he’s had in a while. “I don’t know,” he mouths back because he doesn’t want to be Hajime right now. He wants to be someone else, someone who looks into his mirror and sees pretty girls instead of his own sorry reflection.

She huffs and looks adorable with her cheeks puffed out. “Shut up,” she says out loud and ducks out of sight just to end their conversation, all because of Hajime’s ability to always be a little shit.

His own reflection returns, and he sighs and finishes brushing his teeth and heads to bed, for real this time.

(Chiaki stands back up, but the boy is gone. He had looked tired but good-looking with olive skin and dark, fluffy hair.

It was as good an end to her birthday that she’s ever gotten, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face that no one sees.)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i call this piece, 'I should be updating my ghost au but am instead, writing a whole new fic' i think i've done this before lmao i need to seek help  
> anywho, my tumblr is bravemccalll if u want to chat about this chapter or just to generally yell at me, either is welcome  
> until next time! - nic


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